


It Just Feels Right

by WingsforWinter



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Nerd Dean, Protective Castiel, Punk Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1519283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsforWinter/pseuds/WingsforWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nerdy sophomore Dean Winchester is in love with enigmatic punk Castiel, but is far too shy to say anything to him in person. He just wants the senior to know that someone cares about him, so he starts leaving anonymous notes in the other boy's locker. </p>
<p>He's content to keep going like that, but what will happen when his secret is found out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Just Feels Right

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of the [30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge](http://ghiraher.tumblr.com/post/37135733342/30-day-cheesy-tropes-challenge)
> 
> Day 3: Anonymous Love Letters
> 
> Don't hate on this too much, it's called a cheesy trope for a reason!

Dean didn’t know why he started leaving anonymous love notes in Castiel’s locker, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Every few days for the last month he’d dropped by before his morning study session and slipped a piece of paper or a card through the vents into the senior’s locker, nearly sprinting away from the scene every time.

 

The sophomore was painfully shy as it was, but the thought of Castiel, the resident bad boy, knowing the cheesy words of praise came from _him_ nearly gave him a panic attack. He didn’t even know if Castiel liked guys, he just wanted the senior to know that he was appreciated, even if it was from afar. It wasn’t like he actually wanted the other boy’s attention.

 

Sure, Dean found him attractive—what with his predilection for dark clothes covered in spikes and studs and patches, his obscure band shirts, his piercings and tattoos and that unruly mop of blue-streaked black hair and his _eyes_ … All right, maybe Dean found him a little bit more than attractive.

 

But facts were facts, and he didn’t even _exist_ to the other boy. He was convinced that any attention from him would be overwhelmingly negative. Not that Castiel was a bully, but he didn’t hang out with _anyone_ at school. Not even the other punk kids. If he interacted with anyone at all it was usually in a fight of some kind. Just last week he had made an English teacher cry. Dean wasn’t there when it happened, but he heard from a friend that Mr. Adler looked even more like a toad when his face was wet with tears and snot.

 

Everyone cleared a path for him as he walked through the halls. No one ever tried to shove him in a locker or steal his lunch money or call him names in the hallways like they did to Dean. Awkward, quiet, geeky Dean with his Star Wars backpack and his girly features and his hand-me-down clothes.

 

Yes, to Castiel, Dean Winchester didn’t exist, and Dean intended to keep it that way.

 

The sophomore checked the halls surreptitiously as he fished the latest letter out of his back pocket. Most of the other students wouldn’t even get to school for another half hour or so, but he was better safe than sorry. He lifted the folded piece of paper to the slots at the top of locker 1659 and was about to push it through when he was slammed face-first into the cold metal.

 

He didn’t move, he hardly dared to _breathe_ as he felt the hand that pushed him against the lockers tighten painfully on the back of his neck. A body pressed against him from behind and he started to panic. A creepy junior named Alistair had been making lewd comments at him for weeks now and he’d risk an ass kicking rather than be groped by the fucker.

 

He pushed both hands against the metal to try and force himself backwards but whoever was holding him was far stronger. The stranger grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back until he stopped struggling. He was about to start yelling for help when a gravelly voice rumbled close to his ear.  

 

“What the fuck are you doing at my locker, kid?” Oh, _shit_.

 

“I… I’m—I just…” Dean tried to stammer out an apology but he couldn’t get past the second word.

 

He realized his letter was clutched in the hand that Castiel twisted behind his back just as it was wrenched from his grip. Castiel stepped back and Dean’s knees shook, trying to hold up his own weight. He watched in growing horror as Castiel unfolded the sheet of creamy cardstock but made no move to retrieve it. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

 

He couldn’t imagine how the nightmare could get any worse, and then Castiel started reading his letter. Out loud.

 

“‘Some things just feel right. A sleep-warm bed on a cold winter morning, cracking your back after sitting too long, apple pie straight from the oven. A hug from someone you love. You don’t have to think about it. You don’t have to acquire a taste for it or try to explain why it feels so good; you just know that you want to feel that feeling as often as possible. That’s how I feel when I see you.’”

 

Dean flushed crimson with shame. This one wasn’t even the worst one he’d written. He could feel the traitorous prickling of tears in the corners of his eyes and he blinked them rapidly to try and stop them from falling. He refused to look at the other boy when he stopped reading.

 

He could feel Castiel staring at him, daring him to try and explain.

 

“You can hit me if you want to, just please don’t tell anyone. I get beat up enough as it is.” Dean was proud of the steadiness in his voice. Hell, he was proud he spoke at all.

 

It was quiet for several moments before he heard Castiel move. He tensed for a blow, but it never came. He opened one eye as the thump of Castiel’s Doc Martens started to fade.

 

Castiel was striding away from him, Dean’s letter still clenched in his fist.

 

 

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Dean felt almost like he’d come face to face with a wild animal and somehow escaped unscathed.

 

He tried to ignore it, but he was so used to looking for Castiel in the halls or trying to catch glimpses of the senior in the quad at lunch that it was ingrained in him; the worst kind of habit. And now, whenever he caught himself looking at the boy in question, Castiel was looking back.

 

He would meet Castiel’s black-lined blue eyes almost involuntarily. He would always look away quickly, only to drag his gaze back a second later. Castiel just openly stared. Each time, he felt his face heat with embarrassment. It got so bad that one of his teachers asked him if he was sick.

 

He was overwhelmingly flustered by the time that school ended. He was so lost in his thoughts as he was walking home that he didn’t see the jocks coming until they were already on him. They knocked his books out of his hands and pulled his backpack off, wrenching the shoulder that was still sore from his encounter with Castiel.

 

The three of them took turns pushing him down, only to drag him back up again. He was punched and kicked and twisted around until he didn’t know which way was up anymore. He tried to curl in on himself, but they wouldn’t allow it, jeering and laughing as Dean tried his hardest not to make a sound. If he cried out they would only hit him harder.

 

Suddenly the pain stopped, and there was a lot of yelling. He heard the telltale sound of fists hitting flesh, but surprisingly it wasn’t coming from him. He opened the eye that wasn’t rapidly swelling shut to see Castiel beating the ever-loving shit out of Uriel, the school’s star quarterback. Uriel’s teammates were trying to pull him off of their friend, but Castiel just whirled on them instead.

 

Dean had just gotten to his feet when the sound of a police siren in the distance caused Uriel and his friends to scatter. They weren’t on school grounds anymore, so one of the people in the neighborhood must’ve seen what was going on and called the cops. Castiel looked like he was ready to run too, but he stopped and turned to look at Dean again.

 

“Are you gonna wait for the police to get here?” he asked.

 

The question was pretty straightforward, but the tone of his voice made Dean think he meant more. Was he asking if Dean was going to narc on the jocks? Dean knew how most teens viewed ‘tattle tails,’ which was the main reason why Uriel and his buddies were still in school. If Dean had run to the office every time they beat on him, they would’ve been expelled by now.

 

Dean shook his head. By the time he realized that he should’ve thanked Castiel for saving him, the punk was already out of sight. By the time he got home, his whole body ached. His little brother was staying over a friend’s house, and John had long since stopped asking about the bruises his son came home with every now and again, so Dean grabbed an ice pack for his eye and headed to his room for the night.

 

 

Dean drove the impala to school the next day even though he didn’t have his permit yet because John had took off in his pickup truck sometime in the night, leaving behind a note that said he’d be back in a couple days, and he was too sore to walk.

 

He ducked into the backseat to grab his backpack and nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned around to see Castiel standing six inches from him. Before he could tell the senior off for startling him, strong fingers gripped his chin, turning his face this way and that. Blue eyes took in his bruised face with a frown.

 

“They really did a number on you didn’t they?”

 

Dean pulled back out of Castiel’s grip, heart thudding in his chest. “Yeah, well… it happens.”

 

“You shouldn’t let them beat on you like that.” Castiel stared unblinkingly at him, like he was some sort of puzzle that needed to be put together. Maybe he was.

 

“I don’t _want_ to let them beat on me. It only gets worse when I try to fight back.” Dean felt strangely ashamed of himself. Castiel wasn’t that much bigger than him, but he managed to take on all three of the guys at once and, apart from a set of bruised knuckles, looked to be none the worse for wear.

 

Castiel sounded strangely gruff when he spoke again. “Yeah, well… let me know if they come after you again.” He was about to ask Castiel why when the senior leaned forward and kissed him, one hand coming up to cradle the less bruised side of his face.

 

Oh.

 

When they parted, Dean was wheezing like he’d run a 6-minute mile in gym class. Castiel gave him a wry grin and patted his cheek. “You ok?”

 

“Yeah, Cas. I’m fucking fantastic.” Dean panted, grinning. A question buzzed around in his head. “Hey, do you even know my name?”

 

Castiel grinned wider, nose crinkling. “So you want to be called something other than ‘Creepy Stalker Kid?’”

 

“My name is—”

 

“Dean Winchester. I found out yesterday after your little revelation. I had to figure out a little more about the kid that filled up 26 pages with nice things about me. You could have been crazy, after all. I was going to talk to you after school but the goon squad beat me to it.”

 

Dean’s treacherous cheeks chose that moment to heat up, and Castiel’s grin softened a little. The first bell rang and Dean tore his eyes away from the little crinkles next to Castiel’s eyes when he smiled.

 

“See you after school?” Dean asked hopefully.

 

Castiel leaned in and pressed another kiss to his mouth. “Of course.” Without another word, the senior shoved his hands in his pockets and strode into the building, the chains on his black jeans clinking against each other.

 

Dean practically floated through his first couple classes. He caught himself smiling so wide it literally hurt his battered face, and not even his teachers’ worried glances at the purple blotches on his eye and cheek could bring him down.

 

He told his best friend Charlie that he’d meet her at their usual table when the lunch bell rang and made his way to the bathroom. He regretted the decision instantly when Uriel followed him in, blocking his exit.

 

“So you and Castiel, huh? I always knew you were a freak, Winchester, but a faggot too? How very… predictable of you.” the older boy sneered at him. Dean was pleased to see his swollen cheek and split lip, but his satisfaction was marred by the fact that the bigger kid was blocking his only escape. At least Uriel came in alone.

 

Uriel strode purposefully toward him, and Dean almost cringed away before he remembered the conversation he had with Castiel that morning. It was just one guy. He didn’t have his teammates with him. If Uriel wanted to kick his ass, he’d have to earn it this time. As soon as he was within striking distance, Dean swung at him.

 

The older boy was genuinely surprised when Dean started to fight back, but the surprise was short lived. He was still bigger, stronger and more experienced than Dean, and he used that experience to overpower the sophomore.

 

Uriel was trying his damnedest to crack Dean’s ribs when the bathroom door swung open. He heard a curse and the door swung shut again. So much for thinking whoever it was would help him.

 

Uriel was dragging him over to the bathroom stall, presumably to dunk him in the toilet when the door burst open again, and Castiel was there. He dragged the older boy off of Dean and slammed him to the wall by his throat.

 

“Apparently you didn’t get my message last time, Uriel. I’ll make this perfectly clear for you: You will not touch Dean Winchester again. Am I understood?” The other boy was gasping for breath and scrabbling at Castiel’s arm when the Vice Principle Singer strode in with one of Dean’s classmates—Dean dimly recognized him as the one who walked in earlier. He must’ve gone to get help. Dean took back his negative thoughts.

 

 

After an hour of getting checked out by the school nurse, talking to the officer that Mr. Singer called in to take his statement, and five unanswered calls to his father, Dean just really, really wanted to go home. The consensus was that Uriel was in big trouble, Castiel wasn’t, he didn’t have any broken bones, and no one was coming to pick him up. He was exhausted. 

 

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but somehow he ended up in the passenger seat of the impala giving Castiel half-slurred directions to his house. The older boy pulled in to his driveway and cut the engine before getting out and opening the passenger side door, half carrying Dean into the house.

 

He was deposited on the couch and his eyes immediately fluttered shut, only to snap back open when something cold was pressed into his hand. He took the glass of water and Tylenol Castiel offered him with a mumbled ‘thanks.’

 

He watched as Castiel walked around his house like he’d been there a hundred times, cleaning up John’s old beer bottles and turning the television to some nature documentary before forcing Dean to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

 

He finally stopped bustling around as the program on the tv shifted from lions to wolves, pulling Dean practically onto his lap and tucking the sophomore’s head to his chest. Dean let out a contented sigh as he felt the older boy’s lips press against his forehead. He fell asleep to the sound of Castiel’s heartbeat and the tinny sound of wolves howling through the speakers of the tv.

 

 

He snapped awake when his front door burst open, and was surprised to find that Castiel was still there, fast asleep.

 

Sam’s eyes almost bugged out of his head when he took in the sight of them on the couch and he whispered an apology when Dean glared a warning at him.

 

“Is that your boyfriend?” his little brother stage-whispered, pointing at Castiel. As if Dean could misunderstand whom he was asking about.

 

Was he? Dean wasn’t sure, but he had a good idea. He’d have to ask Castiel when he woke up. “I think so.”

 

Sam took another assessing look at the sleeping boy. “He looks scary. I like him.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, “me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just so y'all know, Punk!Cas and Endverse!Cas are my ultimate weaknesses, so expect me to use those characterizations as much as possible.


End file.
